


Helping Hand

by KaytiKazoo



Series: 2020 Prompts [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaytiKazoo/pseuds/KaytiKazoo
Summary: Hunter got hurt on a mission, and is a very bad patient
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse
Series: 2020 Prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985246
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 50 Day Fic Prompt, "Why are you helping me?", posted to [my tumblr.](http://kaytikazoo.tumblr.com)

Lance Hunter was an asshole, especially when he was hurt. Luckily, Bobbi had become something of an expert on Lance Hunter. She knew how to duck his barbs, let his attitude glance off her. Hunter liked to pretend that he was a heartless playboy who didn’t need anyone or anything. He liked to pretend that all he wanted out of life was a paycheck, a good shag, and a cold beer when he got home. When something got too close to him, someone knowing too much, he’d lash out with claws designed just for them. She'd been on the receiving end of those claws often enough times before.

It got worse when he was in pain.

It was almost enough to send Bobbi away, but she was an expert on Lance Hunter, the only one in the world. 

He was an asshole, and he was stubborn. He didn’t know how to listen. He thought that his point of view was the only one, and beyond that, the only one that mattered. So, when the medics told him to stay in bed, he decided that he didn’t have to, and instead, he was going for a walk.

“Why are you helping me?” Hunter snapped as Bobbi crossed the hallway to him, shaking her head.

“I could leave you on the ground if you want,” she replied as coolly as she could. She ducked her arm underneath his shoulders and gently hoisted him off the floor and onto his feet, one stumble at a time. 

“I don’t need your help,” he reiterated.

“Need or want, you’re getting it.”

She’d sat at his bedside while he’d been unconscious for hours, listening to the steady beep of his heart monitor, reminding her with every sound that he was alive. The medics had taken two bullets from his abdomen and one from his thigh. He was lucky to be alive, they’d said. It almost hit two major arteries, and if they hadn’t found him when they did, he would have bled out, alone, in some stairwell without her.

Bobbi wasn’t going to let him out in the field ever again, regardless of when he was officially cleared for duty. 

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, trying and failing to shove her off. He was weak though, knees buckling. 

“No can do, darling,” she said. 

“I’m fine, Bob.”

“Lance, you were shot three times yesterday. You need to be in bed resting.”

“I’m  _ fine _ .”

“I’ll certainly tell Simmons you think so.”

“You’re such a telltale,” he said, and there was a hint of a gasping whine as he put too much weight on his bad leg.

“Stop whining or I will absolutely carry you back to the  medlab .”

“No,” he said, and then flinched as he realized how whiny it sounded.

“Alright,” she said, and she ducked down and swept him off his feet. She had always loved how she could fit him in her arms like that, even if she couldn’t ever tell him that, even if she never would. “If you’re going to be a naughty child, you’re going to be treated like one.”

“Bobbi, put me down.”

“No,” she said simply, and she carried him back towards the  medlab . He honestly hadn’t gotten far.

“I don’t need to be carried.”

“Well, you clearly weren’t doing great on your own.”

“I was doing fine.”

“You were on the ground.”

“Maybe that’s where I wanted to be,” Hunter groaned. Bobbi crossed through into the  medlab and back to his bed. 

“Sure. Can’t show any kind of vulnerability. Not even with me, your goddamn wife.”

“Ex,” he grumbled. “You made that extremely clear.”

“Oh, don’t start.”

She eased him into the bed and pulled the blanket over top of him. 

“Don’t start,” he mocked. She reached out and flicked him on the nose as if he were a bad puppy. He stopped, stunned, staring at her, and then they started laughing at the same time. And laughing. And laughing. And it was the best Bobbi had felt since before Hunter been shot. 


End file.
